


Hard, Soft, and Between

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Sex Toys, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:26:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cait and Curie team up to give Piper a very, very good time.</p><p>(aka Piper Sammich)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard, Soft, and Between

“Tell us what you wish us to do,” Curie murmurs, breath warm in the crook of Piper’s neck, her long fingers sliding over the curve of Piper’s hip, down the smooth slope of thigh and tickling the soft curls of pubic hair. A blind map of the body, reading her by fingertips, texture and relief.

Piper swallows, lashes fluttering beneath her blindfold. It’s a prewar sleeping mask, meant to block out light for peaceful slumber. Takes away light, sight-- makes her focus on every small touch. Like Cait’s arms around her, teeth gnawing a gentle love-bite against her shoulder. Piper curls her toes into the coiled rug, a cool scrape of cloth beneath her heels as she roots herself. Limbs floating, blood singing and light-headed. Disoriented, with only Curie and Cait’s touch to anchor her.

“I want-- I want both of you to touch me. Use me.” Her voice a breathless squeak even to herself. “Make me please you. _Let_ me please you. And if I do a good job-- then both of you. Fucking me. At the same time.” World a dizzying wash of black behind her closed eyelids.

Cait growls, laughter tickling the back of Piper’s neck. “I already know where you want to be fucked.” Squeezes Piper’s ass, rough but not un-gentle, nails digging into the flesh. Swipes her thumb down the cleft of the buttock, tapping the base of the plug that Piper’s been wearing in anticipation. Sends tremors all through her body, cunt throbbing wet. Empty in a way that begs, her clit aching for touch. The plug solid and taunting; an indirect pressure to her cunt. When she clenches, it presses against her inner walls, rubs against the sweet spot that she loves to curl her fingers over, press inside her to pull orgasm sweet and slow.

“You are so lovely, so skilled with your words and mouth,” Curie chuckles, her hands in Piper’s--and Piper does not need Curie’s voice to know Curie’s hands, knows the balmy scent of those palms and the smooth-trimmed edges of nail, the whiff of lemony soap-- as Curie tugs her forward, one slow step at a time. “I wish to feel your mouth on me.” Lets Piper follow, helpless, Cait’s heavier steps behind and Cait’s hands on Piper’s hips, as much reassurance as guidance.

Curie drops Piper’s hands, weight hitting the mattress in a soft thump as Cait tightens her grip on Piper. A gentle restraint, a way to keep Piper from stumbling over Curie’s knees as Curie rolls onto the bed, a familiar _fwump_ of the pillows as she arranges them just-so and pats her thigh in a tap of skin.

And thank goodness for Cait, Cait placing Piper’s hands on the mattress, laughing and chuckling as Piper positions herself. Awkward and ungainly, ass in the air and her hands on Curie’s thighs, thumbs parting Curie’s folds-- and Piper knows this without sight, knows the sweet-musk scent of Curie’s arousal, already knows how Curie must glisten, the soft sheen of sweat slippery over her skin-- and lowering her mouth to Curie. Lapping, tasting, guided by Curie’s soft moans and Cait’s grunting approval.

The plug sits heavy in her ass, a red flush of embarrassed delight knowing Cait’s sitting behind her, Cait’s hands cupping her ass as Curie twines her hands into Piper’s hair. Shifts the blindfold, moves her hair into a messy nest with the edge of the strap crimping her cheek, but not uncomfortable. A frisson of excitement, and she laps harder, goes from gentle exploration to harder flicks of her tongue, centering on Curie’s clit. Like writing an article, really-- a strong headline, a tease to draw attention, and then moving into the body. Well-researched, of course. She knows Curie, has cuddled and kissed and loved every inch of this woman. Knows some parts of Curie better than she knows herself, because how often does she really wash the back of her own neck, trace fingers down the line of her own spine? Curie’s a favorite flavor, lingering on her tongue like butterscotch.

“God, but you’re both fucking gorgeous like this,” Cait whispers, voice hoarse and cracking on the edges. One hand gripping Piper’s ankle, a rough brush of her thumb over the back of the heel, and the other-- touching herself, maybe. Piper can’t smell Cait from here, enveloped in Curie’s scent, but knows the hitch in Cait’s breath, knows the way Cait finds it so hard to sit still and _watch_. She’s glory in motion, a kiss of teeth and knuckles. Patience is not one of her many virtues.

But Cait shouldn’t need to exercise it for long-- not with the way Curie clamps her thighs together, mashing over Piper’s ears. Flesh-deaf, blood drumming in her ears, but Piper licks, sucks, wraps her mouth over Curie’s clit and presses down as Curie bucks against her. Breathless and delighted, and Piper cannot hear her climax but feels Curie sagging limp into the mattress. Piper props herself on her knees, leans forward, careful not to dig her elbows into Curie’s belly as she kisses Curie’s navel, her hips, the crease of her thigh. Could write poems with her lips, whole stanzas about how good and wonderful Curie feels.

Cait slaps Piper’s ass, a sharp jolt that makes her yelp. “You two are such lovebirds, gonna make me sick.” Twists her hands into Piper’s hair, a white shock that makes Piper’s heart pound up her throat, throbs want down her belly. “Piper, love, sit up. Let Curie move off the bed, and then you’re gonna lie down for me.” Waits until Curie slides off, the mattress dipping and bending as Piper struggles to stay upright, held back with Cait’s hand in her hair. “Move forward, yeah, like that-- nah, stop there, don’t want to hit your head on the wall. Now roll over for me, and I’m gonna sit on your face.” She releases Piper’s hair, lets her fall forward on her hands and knees, the blankets twisting beneath her as Piper wriggles onto her side and tries to rotate without shoving into Cait. Still a knock of knees, accidentally elbows Cait’s ribs. Cait smothers her apologies with a laughing kiss.

“My loves, I wish I could record this for posterity. You both look so beautiful like this,” Curie says, soft and wistful. Near Piper’s head, though she must be sitting or kneeling to sound so close.

“Hell, if we find a bunch of mirrors, could set ‘em up. Memory’ll be better’n pictures anyway. Edits out all the jiggly bits,” Cait chuckles, fist thumping into the wall as she knee-crawls up Piper’s body. An electric tingle of warmth and skin, knees framing Piper’s head as Cait settles her feet over Piper’s arms, weight slung forward against the wall. Hovering over her, expectant. A spicy edge to her smell, sharp like gun-oil and powder, like a copper-edged kiss, like burning cinnamon.

Excitement shivers down Piper’s spine as she tilts her chin, buries her nose against Cait and laps, long and sweet. No less gentle than she was with Curie, because Cait deserves softness as much as anyone, and Cait moans, sighs, lowers herself onto Piper’s mouth. Almost drowns Curie’s reproachful, “But I like the jiggly bits!”

Piper keeps her tongue soft, tilts her chin to press into the hollow of Cait’s body as Cait bears down. Cait growls obscenities-- “fuck, yeah, use that pretty mouth on me”-- with more habit than heat, rocks onto Piper as if ready to smother her with her cunt, but Piper taps Cait’s thigh and Cait retreats, just enough to ease the pressure. Smears slick over Piper’s lips, her chin-- enveloped in sweat and scent, her hair plastered to her forehead as she wraps her hands over Cait’s thighs. Not to control her, no-- can’t control such a magnificent woman. Doesn’t want to. Just wants to read the flow and tension of her body, the way her thighs quiver and flex. Tilt forward, back. Muscles bunching, taught, then stretching long. Firm beneath Piper’s fingers, then a quivering clench as Piper curls her tongue, draws out Cait’s orgasm like an unfurled exclamation. Sex and saliva smeared down her chin, leaving silver kisses on the fold of Cait’s thigh before Cait rolls off with a contented sigh.

“You’re such a fucking mess,” Cait groans, low and full. A callused thumb swipes over Piper’s hairline, a rough caress over the uneven strap of Piper’s blindfold before tugging it back to center. “A beautiful fucking mess.”

“Such a pretty pinkness to your cheeks,” Curie says, and Piper can _hear_ her smile, wrapped around her words like a halo.

Cait laughs, patting Piper’s shoulder. Slides down to her breast with a possessive squeeze. “Not as pretty as the pinkness you’re gonna fuck.” Tightens her grip, fingers spaced over Piper’s ribs-- somewhere between a groping and a mauling, a bite of nail as Cait stops just shy of pain. “Curie got a brand-new pink panty-set for you. Lace and frills. The whole fucking works. I know you’re gonna drip all down her toy, gonna soak it down to a little rag of nothing, but Curie was so fucking excited--”

“As if you did not enjoy helping me pick it out!” Curie huffs back, giggles lacing with mock indignation. Her light steps retreat to the dresser, then a wooden scrape as the drawer slides open.

Piper lifts her neck, tilts her head-- strains her ears, imagining all the tangled waves of sound pouring into her. Imagination or reality, to think she can catch the texture of silk on bare thighs, fine lace being pulled snug into place? Like picturing the world in filtered halftones, trying to make sense of it through screens.

“Sit up and touch, since you cannot see,” Curie murmurs, now in front of Piper. But it’s Cait’s strong hands in Piper’s hair, Cait’s breasts against Piper’s bare back as Piper leans forward. Soft breasts, hard muscle, her hair pulled taut. An edge of restraint that makes her heart thump loud, thunder in her ears. Face between Curie’s breasts, a soft press of skin, soap and powder. Sweeter than perfume. Riding those edges, that tripwire boundary like lightning in her skin. Tingles down her scalp.

Curie takes Piper’s hands, setting them on the swell of her hips, where fabric meets flesh. Thin lines of lace edging around the thicker panels of cloth, the heat of bare flesh like a seductive Braille. Clothed-- barely-- lace, flesh, raised patterns that Piper reads with her fingertips.

Piper slows as she reaches the front of Curie’s underwear, walks her fingers where the textured cloth gives way to a silicone O-ring, then a tapered dildo that Piper already recognizes by its curve and heft. Her favorite toy, a rose-pink hue that Piper imagines matching the panty-harness.

On impulse, she dips her head. Wraps her lips over the tip and sucks down. Not deep, but enough to press the top of her mouth, to make Curie gasp with delight before Cait pulls back on her hair, tugs her off and growls, “God, Piper, I wanna see you get fucked. Curie, get on the bed. Let’s give Piper a ride.”

Again, it’s Cait’s firm hands guiding and moving her, heavy on Piper’s shoulders as they make way for Curie on the bed. Hands to breasts, hips, thighs, and Cait coaches Piper into place, thighs braced wide over Curie’s hips and straddling Curie. Curie radiates heat below her, a slender wrist brushing the inner swell of Piper’s thigh. The clean, slick smell of lube, generously applied and squelching under Curie’s hand as she coaxes the dildo against Piper’s cunt, slipping against her folds and sliding away from her entrance. Piper groans, lifts and settles herself against the tip-- a little too quick, enthusiasm sends her sliding down with a smack of skin, suddenly _full_ and aching, hard against the plug still nestled in her ass. Pressure from both sides, her body throbbing. The two toys separated only by the thin inner walls of her body.

“Greedy, ain’tcha,” Cait whispers, a ghost-laugh in her voice.

“Piper, love, go as fast or slow as you wish. I want you to set your own pace,” Curie says. Velvet over steel, and Piper knows an order when she hears it.

Piper puts one hand in front of her and finds Curie’s arm raised to meet her. Grips for support, sitting back and lifting her hips. Rising. Falling. Slow movements, gentle. Piper licks the fingers of her other hand, a long swipe of tongue before rubbing her clit in a slow circle. Feels good, yes-- but showmanship too, arching her back to lift her breasts high, body swaying as she starts to climb, then climb, and Curie murmurs, “You are so lovely, so good,” as Piper thinks she’s going to peak, but that’s not the peak yet. Because everything narrows to a sizzling band of ass, cunt, clit, and Cait’s hand on her back, Cait’s breath in her ear, Cait’s teeth on her neck as Piper clenches, climaxes, comes--

“Lovely, so lovely,” Curie murmurs, speaking with lips as much as breath as she tugs Piper into her, presses sweet kisses on Piper’s shoulder, dip of Piper’s collarbone and the soft fold of the neck. All softness and kisses, a gentle embrace with the dildo still snug inside Piper, the plug weighing heavy in her ass. Soft kisses, hard toys. A nice sort of contrast, head still foggy from orgasm.

“Hope you’re not tired yet,” says Cait. Somewhere between a tease and a promise, rubbing her palm down the line of Piper’s back, thumb tracing the spine. Catching on all the little bumps and notches, reading Piper down to the core. “Your ass looks so lonely and unfucked.”

“Do you still wish us both to fuck you, dear Piper?” Curie asks. And oh, Piper wishes she could see her right now-- Curie’s beautiful eyes, large and shining, the short lashes and the tiny cowlicks at the inner corners of her eyebrows. The way they reflect all colors, purple with night or grey with twilight. Always starry with wonder. Memory makes a map on the heart, but it’s nothing like seeing the real thing.

“Yes please,” Piper says. Begs, rather. Breath feeble in her throat, tripping over her own tongue. Folds forward, ass raised. Braces herself when Cait rests one hand on her lower back, the other pulling the plug out with a near-audible pop as her body releases it. Strangely light, empty. Waiting to be filled. Because Cait and Curie fill so much of her life, now, it’s impossible to imagine living without them.

“Hold on a moment, love. Just gotta strap this on,” Cait grunts with an affectionate slap on Piper’s ass. Enough to make the flesh jiggle, to make it sting before Curie presses her cool hands over it. A soothing press, the comfort cherished as much as the pain.

“If you had not insisted on the harness with the straps…” Curie begins, teasing, but Cait interrupts her with a laugh.

“More straps, more support.” An obnoxious slurp, tongue sloshing over lips and teeth. Voice muffled, like Cait’s still sticking out her tongue. “And I wanna _fuck_ her tight little ass, not just make her do all the work.” A rustle-- leather and cloth, or maybe straps being pulled into place.

“Was I making you do all the work?” Curie asks reproachfully.

Piper swallows, mouth wet and tongue clumsy. Head swimming, the world awash in sex and lace and leather. All sorts of softness, and Piper can only collapse herself into Curie’s arms and soak it all in as she tries to fumble her way to a response. “No, it was nice. Really nice.” Just let herself _be_ , ready to take in more sensation. Thighs slippery, the scraps of lace already soaked between her and Curie.

“Not a fair question while you’re still fucking her, love,” Cait growls, pressing herself into Piper’s side and kissing Curie over her shoulder. A wet smack of lips, leather straps digging into Piper’s hip, a nudge of silicone as Cait rolls to the side. Settles between Piper’s legs, hands prying Piper open-- and a low whistle, stroking her thumb down Piper’s folds, around the edge of the labia. “Look so pretty spread out like this. D’you want more lube, or fingers before I fuck you…?”

“Just lube on the toy, and I think I’m good.” Words spun out thin and trembling. Like watered ink, quavering in a cup. Washes her words pale.

Cait leans back, the press of her body suddenly gone. But not absent-- a ghost-tingle of warmth, remembered skin. Cait’s legs still touching Piper’s, a comfortable contact as Cait squeezes open the bottle with a thick squelch, the lube sliding wet. An accidental drip over Piper’s spread thighs (“whoops,” Cait laughs, warm and welcome) before Cait bumps the slippery head of the dildo against Piper’s ass.

Piper braces herself, elbows spread wide over Curie’s chest. Pushes back on her knees, trying to slide herself down Cait’s strap-on-- moans frustration when the toy slips away, but Curie kisses the slope of her breast and wraps her hands over Piper’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart as Cait grips Piper’s waist. Lifts-- and it’s push and pull, Curie’s dildo firmly inside Piper as Cait pushes into Piper’s ass. Slippery, warm, hardly any friction as she slides in. Piper whines. Tries to brace herself back, thighs slapping into Curie’s before Cait laughs. “Eager, ain’tcha?” And it goes from gentle push to harder, Piper’s body easing open. Full to brimming, both toys inside her and grinding against one another, Piper trapped between Cait and Curie in a sandwich of limbs and breath. Like paper between the platen and the printing plate, Cait tamping over her firm and smooth.

Every movement, every jostle brings a slap of skin, a press of hands, breasts, belly-- not just filled, but surrounded, enveloped. Difficult to do anything but stay in place, hold herself against the thrust of Cait’s hips and the slide of Curie’s toy, try to keep from falling as they wash over her in sensation.

Curie does not move so much-- with two women on top, her own movements are smaller, constrained. But she’s freer with her hands and mouth, speckles kisses against Piper’s neck and shoulders as Cait pants against Piper’s neck. Pushes in and out, never quite making full contact with her hips against Piper’s ass until Piper pleads, “More?” Then it’s harder, Cait grunting like her lip’s between her teeth as she pushes, thighs flush against Piper, one hand squirming into the sweat-slick press between Curie and Piper.

Piper hisses. “Careful.” Sucks in her belly as Cait relaxes her fingers with an apology, trails down to the soft curls over Piper’s cunt and rubs over the clit. Up and down, a little too hard-- no finesse, between the awkward angle and the way Piper rocks forward, but Curie bubbles laughter.

“My love, you are so _wet_. Dripping all over me.”

“Like turning a tap,” Cait snickers, and Piper opens her mouth-- to protest, to agree, she’s still not sure-- but Cait picks up speed with her hips, and somehow-- clit, ass, cunt-- it all works together, a rhythm that knocks her breath away, sends the words clattering behind her teeth. Clicking, tumbling, like movable type set too quickly. Spilling out her thoughts.

Piper hangs, suspended between Cait and Curie. Cait’s body above her, behind her, rocking into her, setting the pace. Hard, a little rough, skin smacking wet into one another. Curie below her in front, still kissing. Even her gentle hands harder now, gripping Piper’s ribs, shoulder. Each finger a white burst of pressure, thumb in the dimple of the shoulder and fingers splayed around the meat of the tricep. Head spinning, floating, even as they pull her to earth.

“God, I love you,” she mumbles, sings, cries. Poor clit sore and throbbing, Cait’s fingers slipping to the side and Cait overcompensates with pressure. Hard to get the fingers centered back over the clit, the way Piper sways, the way Cait won’t stop moving, the way Curie lifts her hips and bumps up and _oh_ that’s sweet and unexpected. The sleep-mask slips over Piper’s ear, a tiny scratch of Velcro and it would be uncomfortable except Piper’s orgasm sweeps over her like a groundswell, like a flood, like a hurricane that leaves her wrung out and breathless.

Collapses forward onto Curie, buries her face in the hollow between Curie’s shoulder and the pillow. “‘Nuff, enough. Came.” Everything that before felt just-right now an uncomfortable fullness. Not painful, but too much. Clit throbbing-- red, red, red.

Cait pulls back with a slick pop, sliding her hand out from between Piper and Curie. Pats Piper’s ass, gentle, before rising off the bed. The mattress creaks, resettles itself with Cait’s weight absent, and Curie slips down with her hips, easing the dildo out of Piper. God, what a mess. Still warm and slippery as it bounces against Piper’s thigh.

“My dear, I would like to remove this. If you can roll to the side?” Curie asks, gentle and coaxing.

Piper nods, tongue loose in her mouth. Collapses bonelessly, limbs hitting the tangled sheets with a soft _whump_. World still dark, warm and enclosed beneath the weight of the blindfold. Now would be the time to remove it-- actually watch Cait and Curie strip down from their toys, admire the pretty pink of Curie’s panty-set, or the way the straps fit Cait’s muscular thighs-- but that feels like too much work, after the exhausting bliss of orgasm. So instead she listens to the rustle of cloth on skin, buckles unstrapping. A reverse of the previous maddening dress-up, a sort of aural strip-tease. Except they’ve already _had_ the sex and now is the denouement, a clearing away of the scraps.

“Talk to me, love,” Cait says, creaking her way onto the bed behind Piper. “Was that too much?” Strokes Piper’s hair, traces gentle hands down the swell of the ear. Unfastens the Velcro strap with a slow pull, bracing a thumb against the base to avoid ripping the few hairs stuck in the tiny loops. (And there is _always_ hair stuck in those loops, a fact as relentless as the dawn. No matter how many times they’ve played this game or similar before, Piper _always_ gets her hair stuck in the blindfold.)

Piper blinks open, eyes too-wet, gummy on the inside corners. She lifts her hand to wipe it away, the back of her hand coming away damp with salt and sweat. Maybe tears, but Piper doesn’t remember crying. “No, it was really good.” Exhales, long and slow. Trying to keep that sense of fulness, of fulfilment, as long as possible. That dizzying loss of self at the moment of climax. “So much. Just exhausted.”

“Wrung you out?” Cait asks, tossing the blindfold over her shoulder. No sound of it hitting the floor; Curie must have caught it.

Piper nods. Colors still sharp, bright. All out of place with the hazy softness flooding her limbs. She’s gone from black and white to full color, all the primaries bursting brilliant. Lets herself relax as Cait spoons up to her, arm tucked over Piper and spread over the soft pillow of her belly.

“Perhaps we should all get under the blankets? Or we will surely catch a chill,” Curie chides, leaning across Cait to squeeze Piper’s hand.

“Such a nanny,” Cait mock-grumbles, but she sits up and pulls the blankets down. Tucks Piper in, arranging the sheets in a nest. Curie slips in as well, wriggling so they hold Piper between them. Her nose inches from Piper’s, eyes bright and curious. Studying Piper, all her details. Meticulous researcher down to the core. She then smiles, having found whatever she was looking for, and kisses the tip of Piper’s nose. Taps a finger to Piper’s lips, and Piper opens obediently. Curie pops a gumdrop in as reward, rolling it over the swell of Piper’s lower lip.

Piper chews slowly, the sugar crystals crunching on her back teeth as her mouth fills with artificial citrus. Juicy, sweet, cleansing. Like bottled sunshine and tattered vacation ads.

“Thought you didn’t allow candy before bedtime,” Cait says, kissing Piper’s neck.

“She has had a very full evening, and one night of treats will not lead to immediate tooth decay,” Curie replies, serene. Only a twinkle in her eye to betray the joke.

Cait snickers, gnashing her teeth over Piper’s shoulder. “I’ll remember that next time you scold me for eating cookies in bed.”

“That is because you leave crumbs.” As always, Curie refuses to be cowed. With no actual threat, she pretends not to notice Cait’s teasing intimidation.

Piper smiles, eyes closed. Hair still sticking to the back of her neck, clit sore. A good feeling, their friendly bickering washing over her as she drifts to sleep.


End file.
